Take Me Away To Paradise
by Gurrbill
Summary: It was only because Dean was so comfortable with Cas after years of being together that he could suggest it. 'It' being one of his more... adventurous fantasies. (In which Castiel is willing to please Dean in any way possible, and Dean absolutely loves him for it.)


**Rating: NC-17 (EXPLICIT)**

**Pairing: Dean/Cas**

**Summary: It was only because Dean was so comfortable with Cas after years of being together that he could suggest it. 'It' being one of his more...adventurous fantasies. **

**(In which Castiel tries to pleasure Dean in any way possible, and Dean absolutely loves him for it.)**

**Warnings/Tags: Rape/Noncon, Rough Sex, Barebacking, fingering, Dirty Talk, Slut Shaming, Schmoop, Fluff, Cas wants to please Dean, Top Cas, Bottom Dean, Dom Cas**

**Notes: Originally written for a prompt on livejournal: "Dean and Cas have an established relationship, and Dean ends up confessing that he has a fantasy about being raped. So they come up with a safe word and decide to act out the fantasy together. Lots of Dean saying "no" and trying to fight Cas off and Cas manhandling him and taking him hard. They don't end up using the safe word and are both very satisfied with the experience.**

**While there is no actual rape/noncon in the following text, the scene itself READS LIKE A RAPE SCENE. If this makes you uncomfortable or triggers you in any kind of way, don't read ahead. **

**Please read responsibly. **

-x-x-x-

Dean took a breath. Twiddled his thumbs as he watched Cas bustle around the kitchen, humming in that-off beat way he usually did when he was making pancakes.

Making pancakes. The whole scene seemed so innocent, despite what Dean was about to ask of his lover. How did anybody go about broaching _that _kind of subject? Dean trusted Cas with all his heart, don't get him wrong - but how on earth did one come out and say 'Hey Cas, I fantasize about being raped. Could you help me out a little with that?'

Yeah. No.

"Cas?" He started timidly. Cas didn't look up from the frying pan.

"Mmm?"

Dean licked his lips, "Can I, uh... Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Go ahead," Cas murmured distractedly, and Dean huffed in annoyance. Cas just didn't get that fact that this was a _talk _kind of talk. Not something to be mentioned casually over breakfast.

"Could you, ah... maybe sit down then?"

Cas turned to look at him, scanning him with an all-knowing eye. Years of learning Dean's mannerisms meant that he could read the taller man quite easily by now. Dean squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze; he knew Cas was starting to twig that something was up.

The older man turned off the hob, placing the frying pan on the counter-top before pulling out a wooden chair next to Dean. He pulled Dean's (not trembling, totally not trembling) hand into his own, thumb stroking softly across the knuckles.

"Is something wrong?"

And fuck, the way that Cas looked at him - like he was the centre of the goddamn _universe _- was nearly too much. Blue eyes in a wide, open-gaze, a slight crease above his nose, plush lips pulled into a frown. Worried and attentive. God, Dean loved him.

"I was wondering if... if you'd like to try something new," he pulled a face, hoping Cas could gather what kind of 'new' he was talking about. Cas merely tilted his head.

"Are you bored of pancakes?"

Dean snorted, and he suddenly felt much more at ease. Cas smiled too, even though he didn't quite get what the joke was.

"No Cas - never bored of pancakes," he chuckled, "I mean... _us _kind of new."

Cas' eyes widened in understanding.

"You're referring to intercourse," he stated, and Dean resisted the urge to face-palm.

"Yeah - not that I don't like it already," he amended quickly, dispelling the forlorn expression that had been gathering on Cas' features, "I just wanna try something I've... I've wanted to do for a long time."

Immediately, Cas bombarded him with questions.

"A new toy?"

"Perhaps a new position?"

"A personal fantasy?"

"Should I purchase a sex-swing?"

"Whoa whoa," Dean waved Cas off with his free hand, "Slow down there, cowboy," and then, he added, "...What was that fourth one again?"

"A sex swing?"

Dean pursed his lips, "Maybe later," he grinned, blinking his way back to the actual topic, "But I'm talking about the third thing."

"A personal fantasy?"

"Yeah, that one," Dean shifted on his chair, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Cas squeezed Dean's other hand encouragingly.

"I'm happy to try anything that pleasures you, Dean," Cas said in that _way _of his - the 'I'll follow you to the ends of the earth' kind of way. Dean melted a little. He took a breath, embarrassment clawing up his throat.

"I've always had this - this fantasy of..." He trailed, unsure if he should beat around the bush or give the straight answer, "Of me being... uh... being used. Against my will."

Beating around the bush it is - but for once in his life, Cas seemed to pick up on the hint. Surprise flitted faintly across his features.

"You wish to be raped?"

The word sounded harsh, and Dean flinched at the sound of it.

"Yeah," he mumbled, gaze darting to the floor, "I get that it's weird, and not normal, and I should feel bad for even _wanting _it -"

"Dean."

Dean stopped, closing his eyes as Cas cupped the side of his face, sighing deeply.

"I don't know what 'normal' is classed as - but I believe wishing to make you happy is considered 'normal'. And if this is the way you want to be made happy, then I shall oblige."

Dean felt Cas' lips brush his softly, thumb tracing his cheekbone.

"We'll discuss it further after breakfast," Castiel smiled at him, "And you need to think of an appropriate safeword. I don't want to hurt you."

And Dean was left sitting in his chair, wondering how in the hell he'd landed someone like Cas. That man was a friggin' angel.

-x-x-x-

They chose a run-down old diner to play it out. Or rather, the abandoned alleyway next to it. No-one ever came up these parts anymore, and if a cop happened upon them, they'd explain the situation. Dean always handled cops well (at least, the hairpin in his pocket could handle cuffs well).

They'd gone through it so many times that Dean had lost count - he'd told Castiel that he just wanted him to go to town. Rough sex, dirty-talk, slut shaming - all of it. They'd discussed the safeword (Dean had suggested 'Impala', but they decided on 'salad', seeing as Dean was unnaturally attracted to that car anyway) and Castiel had nodded along, with Dean swearing that he could see the mental notes as they were being written behind those big blues. Fuck, Castiel was amazing.

He stopped outside of the designated alleyway, took a breath, and braced himself.

"Well aren't you just gorgeous, standing out here alone?"

Dean spun around, and as soon as he saw those trusting blue eyes, he fell away into the scene.

He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, scowling at the man, "Shove it, creep."

The guy just grinned, rows of pearly whites glinting maliciously in the low orange glow of a street light as he strode forwards, chest inches away from Dean's.

"You'll call me Cas tonight, actually," and with no warning, the guy shoved him roughly backwards, hands fisting in the lapels of Dean's jacket. The taller man yelped as rows of brick bit into his back, trying and failing to land a punch on the guy's stubbled jaw.

"What the _fuck _- get off of me you bastard -!"

Cas silenced him by backhanding him across the face, pulling him forward by his jacket only to slam him back again.

"How can I keep my hands off of you, looking the way you are?" He leered, leaning into the crook of Dean's neck and inhaling deeply - Dean pushed out with his hands, but this guy was fucking _strong_, "God, you even _smell _like sex. Add in those cocksucker lips and I've caught myself a perfect little _whore_."

A large hand drifted downwards, fingers pulling at Dean's belt, and the taller man's breath hitched, the situation beginning to dawn on him.

"No," he breathed, head still spinning from the backhand. He squirmed away from the other man's probing fingers, but to no avail, "No - no don't -"

"Shut up," Cas spat, snatching up Dean's wrists and pinning them effortlessly above Dean's head with a single hand, "You're mine tonight, slut - don't you forget it."

Some of the dizziness was dissipating now, and Dean began throwing his weight around - he wasn't a small man, hell no. Two hundred pounds plus of weight was on his side and he used all of it, struggling desperately in Cas' grip - but the man's only response was to use Dean's momentum to his advantage, yanking Dean forwards and spinning him around, throwing him bodily back into the alleyway wall.

Hot breath ghosted at the back of Dean's neck, and he shuddered when he felt his attacker's erection at his backside, rutting into the crease of his clothed ass.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," Cas bit at Dean's neck, nipping with jarring little kisses, all feverish lust and unwanted caresses, "A slut like you, standing out on a street corner in the middle of the night. You were just _begging _to be fucked, weren't you?"

And damn it, damn it all, Dean's dick throbbed in answer, completely out of tune with the rest of his body. He scrabbled at the wall, trying to push back, but Cas' weight pinned him to it. He tried kicking out, but Cas merely swiped out with a foot and forced Dean's legs apart, nestling so closely between his thighs that Dean was practically being held up against the wall by Cas' knees.

"S-stop," he begged quietly, biting back a betraying moan when Cas started forcing his jeans down his ass and thighs, regardless of the way the rough denim scraped his skin, "Stop - I don't want -"

He cut off mid-sentence, biting his lip as Cas snapped his hips upwards, grinding against Dean's now-bare ass and groaning heavy into Dean's ear.

"What a tight little ass. Bet you're still virgin tight, aren't you? Begging for a cock..." Cas trailed off, his words feeling so oily and _wrong_, clanging on Dean's eardrums, "I'm gonna fuck you into this wall, slut. Fuck that tight little hole like you want me to. 'Cause I know you want me too, sweetheart, don't lie."

Cas reached around, rough hand wrapping tightly around the erection bobbing at Dean's stomach.

"See, this," - the guy ran his hand up and down Dean's treacherous cock a couple of times, drawing a broken whine from the taller man's throat, pulling just enough to draw a yelp of pain from Dean's throat, "This right here is proof. Alleyways and strangers - you don't give a shit, do you? As long as you've got something wide ramming your slutty little fuckhole open, you don't care who's fucking you. Such a _whore _for it."

A painful slap landed on Dean's ass, and he bucked unwillingly into Cas' hand, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, attempting to dive sideways out of the man's grasp. Cold fingers dug into the flesh of his thigh, keeping him grounded.

God, he didn't want this. He knew he didn't - didn't want to be fucked by some stranger in a dark alley - but his cock was pulsing as Cas stroked him closer to climax, and Dean couldn't stop snapping his hips into the touch, back arching as his mind and his body fought with one another.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Cas murmured gleefully a minute later, hand leaving Dean's dick - Dean had since stopped struggling, his body going slack. He knew it was useless, "And you're going to beg for it, you fucking slut."

The only prep Dean got was in the form of Cas' saliva. He slipped his spit-slick fingers between Dean's cheeks, running them over his dry entrance. Dean's entire body tensed again, fight rising anew - he would not be fucked like this, he would _not _-

"Stay _still_," Cas demanded angrily, using his spare hand to wrap in Dean's hair and pull his head back, before slamming his face into the brickwork. Dean grunted in pain, going dizzy, "And relax that tight little hole for me, come on baby."

A lone finger slid in, and Dean cried out at the flare of pain, trying in vain to can't his hips away, his cock still resiliently standing proud against his abdomen. The finger was soon joined by a second and a third, and this time, the tears really did spill, and Dean was sobbing into the wall, shame pounding loud in his eardrums.

The fingers stilled for a moment, and Dean didn't have much time to wonder why before they picked up their malicious pace again, pushing and crooking and _hurting _and Dean sobbed even louder was they brushed his prostate, hips rolling back to fuck himself on them.

"Good slut," Cas crooned, his voice thick with lust as he mouthed at Dean's ear. His other hand was still wound in Dean's hair, but Dean wasn't really paying attention to that, "Taking me like I knew you would. So eager for a nice thick cock to fill you up, hm? Can't wait to ride me, can you?"

Dean just shook his head against the cold bricks, face salty with tears.

"Please..." He whispered brokenly, although what he was really begging for, he didn't know.

And then Cas was pushing in, and all Dean could feel was _hurt, burn, hurt, burn -_

"_Stop!_" He yelled, pleading to the sky as he arched his back, "Just fucking _stop -!_"

Cas retracted his hand from Dean's hair, looping around to cover Dean's mouth as he slammed in deep, and Dean actually moved _upwards _from the force of it. He didn't even try to repress the hoarse scream that tore itself out of his throat, because the pain - fuck, the _pain_. Itwas too much. Too much, yet his cock was still achingly hard and God, what was _wrong _with him?

"Shh, sweetheart, we don't want anyone interrupting," Cas was thrusting shallowly, nudging Dean's prostate constantly, the stimulation finally managing to tear and honest-to-God moan of pleasure - fucking _pleasure _- from Dean's throat, "That's it. Take my cock so well. You were born for this, weren't you?"

Cas slapped his flank, hard, and before digging the fingers of his other hand into Dean's jaw, pulling back sharply so that the taller man could look straight into those deadly eyes.

"Answer me when I fucking talk to you, whore."

More tears gathered, but Dean refused to let them spill. He had more dignity than that.

"Y-yes," he sniffled pathetically (dignity, hah-fucking-_hah_), "I was - I was born for this..."

"Fucking right you were," Cas snapped his hips sharply, and Dean gasped and the shock of pain and pleasure that shot up his spine, fucking himself back on Cas' cock through pure instinct, "Say it again. Tell me what you were born for."

Dean's eyes welled, and he shook his head, but Cas didn't relent - merely pounded in harder, and Dean cried out.

"Born for - for this - " he supplied jerkily, hoping it was enough. It wasn't.

"Properly, sweetheart," Cas snarled, putting up a punishing pace for all of five seconds. Fucking Dean into submission, "Tell me _properly_."

Dean swallowed, his throat dry, his mind a haze of pleasure and pain and fear - so much _fear_.

"I was born f-for fucking - for taking your cock a-and -" he was gasping through sobs now, words stuttered and broken. Maybe it would end quicker if he obeyed, " - and being u-used. I was born to be a-a - a _slut_."

Cas groaned lowly, and after that Dean's world narrowed down to the pounding of Cas' cock, sharp hipbones leaving their imprint on Dean's ass cheeks as he drove his dick into the taller man over and over, balls slapping on his ass. The hot drag of pulsing flesh made Dean writhe against the wall, the burn and the intensity making him light-headed. Each thrust made his body jerk, feeling every single one in the back of his throat. He'd given up fighting minutes ago, letting Cas use him any way he wanted.

The dark-haired man was digging his fingers ruthlessly into Dean's skin, pulling him back onto each thrust, and it didn't take long for Dean to come untouched like that, pressed tightly into the alleyway wall, Cas draped over his body. His come splattered up the bricks, and he cried out Cas' name, fingers rushing across the wall to find something - _anything _- to hold onto, gasping and panting.

"_Fuck_," Cas growled, and it only took three more body-jarring thrusts for Cas to spill his load into Dean's tight channel, groaning against the taller man's nape as his limp weight pressed into Dean's back, hands hanging loosely from the fuck handles also known as Dean's hips.

They stayed like that for a while - days, minutes, Dean didn't know. Come was leaking down between his thighs, still hot, and he couldn't spread his legs to relieve that ache in his calves, 'cause Cas had only dragged his jeans down around his ass and no further. His insides hurt, and his muscles felt limp and strung out.

It was fucking _awesome_.

It felt like several weeks had passed before Castiel started nuzzling gingerly at his ear, leaving a couple of extraordinarily gentle kisses in his wake. He ran his hands soothingly up and down Dean's sides, trailing his lips down the taller man's neck.

"Are you alright?" He murmured, and the whole scene broke. Dean's knees went weak, and he would've collapsed, had Cas not been holding him up, because he'd never come so hard in his entire goddamn _life_.

"Fuck yeah," he managed weakly, "God Cas I didn't - you actually scared me a couple times back there."

"I'm sorry," Cas whispered, and his voice sounded choppy - like he was close to crying, "I nearly stopped. So many times, Dean. Then you started sobbing and I almost - I couldn't -"

"Hey," Dean hushed, reaching a hand out behind him to run softly through the hair on the back of Cas' head, trying to stop the quake in the other man's voice, "Shh. S'okay. I'm okay. Cas - I really fucking enjoyed it. I would've safeworded out otherwise, you know that."

He felt Cas nod, still shaky as he buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck.

"As long as you're sure you liked it, Dean." Cas said, and Dean could tell by the way he was breathing that Cas was trying to even out his speech, "But I think we should go home now."

The tiredness ebbing at Dean's mind agreed, and Cas ended up practically carrying him to the car.

God he was so lucky.

-x-x-x-

The next morning, Dean was brushing his teeth as Cas milled about in the bedroom, humming softly. Dean looked up at the mirror, eyeing the faint bruise on his forehead - from where Cas had slammed his head into the wall last night. The way Cas had panicked when he'd first saw it was heartbreakingly hilarious, and he still wouldn't stop apologising, even though Dean insisted that he was perfectly fine (which he was). Cas was still being a little skittish about yesterday too, despite Dean's constant reminders that, _hello_, he'd enjoyed it beyond belief.

Honestly, he'd liked it so much that he kind of wanted it to happen again.

Sure, his ass hurt and his body ached from the pounding it had taken, but Dean kept remembering the way Cas' hands had gripped him hard, manhandled him into position, pushed him roughly against the wall. He wanted that again - that _power _pushing up against him. He _craved _it.

He washed his face and dried off with a towel, wandering back into the bedroom, slightly sore as he walked. Cas was sat on the end of the bed, pulling his socks on, and when he looked up, his eyes immediately flitted up to the bruise above Dean's eyebrow. He opened his mouth.

"Don't," Dean interrupted. Cas' face fell, "You don't need to apologise, Cas. This," he gestured to the bruise, "Was all part of the scene, okay? Stop worrying about it."

Cas closed his mouth, looking sadly down at the sheets. He looked so much like a kicked puppy that Dean couldn't resist walking forwards and sitting beside his lover, wrapping his arms around Cas' neck and hugging him tightly.

"I. Enjoyed. It." He punctuated every word with a kiss, pulling back to look Cas in the eye, bumping their noses together, "Quit worrying."

Cas toyed with his lip, nodding numbly, but Dean could still see the glint of hesitation in Cas' gaze. And, through what could've only been years of knowing each other so well, Dean realised what was wrong.

"You feel bad 'cause you liked it too," he said slowly, and was only confirmed when Cas looked at him with wide, watery eyes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Dean rolled his eyes fondly.

"That's the whole _point_, Cas - you're _supposed _to enjoy it. We both are," he ran a hand soothingly through Cas' hair, toying with the black strands, "In case you didn't notice, you didn't _actually _rape me. It's a funny thing called acting. You gotta know that I _loved_ it. So much that I..." He paused for a moment, eyes skimming over Cas' face,, "...I think I'd like to do it again, at some point."

Cas voice dropped to a conspirational whisper, "Really?"

"Hell yes," Dean whispered back, "Maybe even make it into a weekly thing."

Cas looked surprised to say the least. Immediately, he went into overdrive, "Should we organise times?" "Where would you like it to happen?" "Shall we mark off dates in the calendar?"

Dean just silenced him with a kiss, slow and languid, pulling away only when he was sure Cas would shut up.

"How about whenever you want," he smiled at Cas' rapt attention, "Surprise me, Cas. And don't ever back off unless I use the safeword. Are those good enough terms for you?"

Judging by the way Cas pushed him back on the bed and settled between his spread legs, those were _extremely _good terms.


End file.
